


Used to Be Mine

by Impalapossible



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst to Fluff, Drinking, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:12:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impalapossible/pseuds/Impalapossible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Loosely based on the song She Used to be Mine by Sara Bareilles. Dean comes home drunk and confesses feelings about his life to the reader he buries deep</p>
            </blockquote>





	Used to Be Mine

You awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of heavy footsteps walking past your bedroom door in the bunker. This wasn’t abnormal. The Winchester brothers came and went at all hours of the day and night. The difference this time was the stumbling nature of the steps and the giant thud which followed. Quickly pushing yourself off of your bed, you made your way towards the door. Before opening it you grabbed the shotgun you set beside it. ‘Better be safe than sorry.’ You thought to yourself.

You stepped out into the hallway and glanced around, shotgun ready until you saw it. There on the floor in a heap of plaid and tears was Dean. He attempted to wipe the tears before matching your gaze, but their green hue still glistened with wetness.

“Dean. Are you alright?” You inquired with softness, setting your shotgun beside your door and moving towards Dean. He held up a hand in a vain attempt to stop you from coming closer. You simply nudged it out of the way before taking a seat beside him. You notice his body tense up from your closeness in a way he never had before.

“Dean,” you reached up and gently wiped a stray tear from his face, “please. Talk to me. What’s going on? What happened?”

“I’m fine.” He lied. Of course he did. Dean always covered up his true feelings with bullshit and bravado. Breathing in deeply you could tell he had been heavily drinking tonight. Again, not uncommon for Dean Winchester to do, but with the weight of the world resting on his shoulders you had seen cracks appearing for weeks. This must be the culmination of everything collapsing on him.

“Look at me Dean.”

He turned his face further away. “I said I am fine. Go away Y/N.”

“Dean. I am not an idiot. I can smell the alcohol coming off of you. Hell, it’s enough to get me drunk from the fumes. Come now, tell me what’s going on in that thick skull of yours. I promise I won’t tell anyone. This is all just a dream to me and a drunk stupor for you so it won’t go past whatever is said between us tonight. I promise.”

His head cautiously turned back towards you. The pain in his expression stung you deeply. Dean rarely showed his wounds and when he did, it cut like a knife because it meant what you saw was only the outer layer of damage with so many levels of deeply rooted scars.

“Y/N…” Dean took in a breath, “you know how it goes. Drink a little, regret a lot. Drink a lot, regret everything.”

“What are you regretting right now?”

Dean hesitantly bit his lower lip. “My life. Everything that led up to me having to sit in this hallway, drunk off my ass trying to figure out how to save the world when I can’t even save myself. You know, I give everything I have to this damn job. I have given up every year of my life since I was four years old to this crap. Hell, I barely remember what it feels like to not be doing this. If it weren’t for my memories of mom…” He trailed off, his thoughts seeming to leave you again and go to a time and place that only he remembers now.

You gently squeezed one of his hands and he snapped back.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me Dean. Just let out whatever you are feeling. I am here for you.”

Dean hesitated again. ‘Curse his stubborn unwillingness to let out how he was feeling’ you pondered, squeezing his hand again in an attempt to encourage him to speak.

“Y/N…” he whispered, “I used to be a good man. I mean, I’ve never been perfect. I lie, steal, and cheat. But I was still good. I used to be the kind of hunter others could look up to. Good was good. Bad was bad. I hunted the bad. But those lines, they aren’t so clear anymore. Now I am this broken wreck of a man. Cursed, beaten, and I’ve killed people.”

“You were a demon Dean and you-”

“So! I’ve still done it. Mark of Cain or not, this is my body. And even still I’ve done more than my share of terrible things.”

“Dean, you are too hard on yourself. No one expects you to be so perfect that you never make a single mistake. I don’t expect that. Sam doesn’t expect that.”

“My dad would’ve expected that of me.” Dean mumbled, pulling his hand away from you and turning his body around so his face rested on his knees and his back faced you.

You sighed. You never met John. You had no idea what kind of man he was, nor did you care. Dean is good. Always has been, always will be as far as you were concerned. If he didn’t count your mistakes against you then you certainly weren’t going to count his against him.

“No offense Dean, but you need to stop being so damn cruel to yourself. You never look at all the good you have done and continue to do. Instead, you see this perfect soldier, son, brother, friend, no hero that doesn’t exist. You’ve been carved out all these years and if you keep filling it with shit talk like that than you will never see the real you.”

“Oh yeah, who is the real me Y/N? You think because you waltz into our lives a few years ago that you have any idea who I am?” The venom in his words was the last straw. You were done letting him sulk. Getting back up on your feet you grabbed his arm and yanked him up. Startled, Dean stumbled a bit and almost threw you off balance. Dragging him towards one of the showers you thrust him inside and adeptly turned the water on him. Almost immediately Dean was drenched. He tumbled towards the tile floor and scrambled several times to get the water off before you took pity on him.

Twisting the knob you leaned down close to Dean’s face, pulling his chin up so he could see your eyes. With your free hand you wiped the water from his face, running your fingers against his hair to move it out of his face in an attempt to keep more water from falling down across his face.

“What the hell Y/N?” Dean shouted, his nostrils flaring. You matched his intensity with your own frustration.

“No more of this pity party Winchester. What happened to the reckless hunter I met all those years ago? The one who had fire in his eyes and loved what he did because he helped save countless lives?”

“He’s gone.”

“But he used to be yours. And I think he still is. I know you are going through a hell of a time right now Dean. I can see that. But so am I. You think I wouldn’t go back and rewrite some of the endings? You don’t think I notice that the world takes more from me than it gives? I am not trying to disregard your pain. You are allowed to feel it and you should feel it, but dammit Dean. You can’t just keep all this in anymore. Ask for help. Let me shoulder some of your burden, or let Sam. And not just when you’re so drunk that you won’t remember any of this conversation. When you actually need it before the liquor starts flowing through your veins.”

Silence fell between the two of you after you finished speaking, but your eyes remained locked with his. He seemed to be searching yours in a way that made you feel naked before him. A smile slowly crossed his lips.

“Thank you Y/N.”

“For what?”

Dean said no words, just continued to smile for a moment causing your face to flush bright red and within a moment you felt Dean’s lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss, his hands wrapped around the sides of your face. It was sweet and needy. Gentle and desperate. And it ended almost as quickly as it began, but Dean continued to cradle your face in his hands.

“Thank you for everything Y/N. Just…thank you.”


End file.
